


After the beep

by flashwitch



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcohol, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Cell Phones, Injury, M/M, One Shot, Post Avengers (Movie), Slash, not exactly a fix it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-17
Updated: 2012-12-17
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:07:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashwitch/pseuds/flashwitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint sits and listens to his voicemail after everything. There are a lot of saved messages, all from Coulson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the beep

**Author's Note:**

> Unrelated to any other Avengers fics I've written or am writing, although this is why there's been no new chapter of "Break from Routine" yet.

 

Clint might be drunk. He might be. He isn’t sure. He lost count of how much he was drinking an hour or so ago. It isn’t really helping, but it gives him something else to think about.

He picks up his phone and presses play.

* * *

  
_“Clint, you’re late. I’m waiting at the restaurant. If I don’t get a call from Fury in the next five minute saying that you’re saving the world, you’re in big trouble.”_  

* * *

 

That was from their first date. Clint had kept it because it was the first time Phil had ever used his first name. He understood later that it was a professionalism thing. That Phil needed to keep ‘Clint and Phil’ and ‘Barton and Coulson’ separate. But at the time he was overjoyed.

Later, when Coulson came to retrieve him from a mission gone bad, he was less thrilled. Especially as Phil was completely pissed that he went off with Hendricks as his handler. Clint wasn’t sure exactly what happened, but after that Coulson was always notified first and got veto power over his missions. He did the same for Natasha too. Clint didn’t want to know how he’d convinced Fury.  

* * *

 

_“Hey Clint, I know you’re sparring with Tasha this afternoon, but could you call and let me know when you’re going to be home? My sister is in town for the weekend and she’s demanding to be introduced to you.”_

_“Phil, tell your toy-boy to  hurry up! I have so many, many questions for him!”_

_“Quiet, Donna. I’ll see you later, Clint... I...uh, I hope this is okay? You don’t have to meet her if... yeah, call me back.”_

* * *

He’d kept that one for two reasons. First, hearing Phil so flustered was uncommon, and Clint relished it. He wished he could have seen Phil meet Rogers, that must have been... but no. He was never going to get to see Phil fanboy over him. Phil’s family, his sister and her kids and his elderly parents, were the only ones Clint had ever known get Phil in a state. And Clint had seen Phil stare down everyone from mad scientists to evil dictators to Fury himself. It always amused him when Phil did lose his cool.

The other reason was because it had Donna’s voice on there. She was amazing. Clint loved her in a not entirely appropriate way. She was snarky and fun and clever and just brilliant. He had her email address, and they wrote to each other regularly but they didn’t phone each other, and only met in person every six to eight months. He liked that he could hear her in the background.

God. He was going to have to tell her. Her and her husband and the little ones. And Mr and Mrs Coulson. He wasn’t sure how... would they let him tell the family the truth? Or would there be a story?

Donna was going to cry and Clint was pretty sure that right now that would break him. she should never cry.

He swallowed harshly and took a mouthful of seriously good scotch he’d raided from Tony’s bar.

* * *

 

_“Hey Clint, you mind picking me up some donuts while you’re at the store? Thanks babe, love you.”_

* * *

 

That one was for the ‘I love you’. Phil was generous with his words, telling Clint how good he was, how much he loved him, how perfect he was. Clint had trouble believing it. He’d never had the best self esteem. When he was away on missions, he’d play that message over and over again. What always got him was how it was said. Not carelessly exactly, but as though it were a statement of fact, something that has been said over and over again. As though Phil hadn't even thought about not saying it.

* * *

 

_“Clint, I... sorry. I just.  I needed to hear your voice. You’re in the hospital. It’s pretty bad. They had you for... just... don’t die, okay? Get better and listen to this message and make fun of me for being such a sap.”_

* * *

 

That one was proof that Phil was as lost without him as he was without Phil.

* * *

 

The voicemail beeped and moved onto the next message. Clint frowned, he’d thought that was all of them...

* * *

 

_“Clint. I can’t believe that the last time I saw you is going to be the last time I see you. I won’t believe that. I... I didn’t tell you I love you today. Fury called, said he needed you to get to the lab early because Sam was threatening to throw something at Selvig if he kept personifying the damn cube. And I didn’t tell you I love you, because I was eating the pancakes you made for us._

_Now the base is gone. Our quarters are gone. You’re gone. But I’m going to get you back. I promise._

_I love you.”_

* * *

Clint looked at the time stamp. It would have been just after Coulson had called Natasha, if he had his timelines straight. Phil had stopped in the middle of a crisis and took off his ‘Agent Coulson’ persona just to call his voicemail.

Clint realised then that he was crying. And he was pretty sure he’d been crying for a while. He threw the bottle of scotch against the wall and curled in on himself. the last time he’d seen Phil, he hadn’t kissed him goodbye. He hadn’t told him he loved him. he’d just... he’d made pancakes. Pancakes. And now Phil was... he was...

Clint’s phone joined the bottle. But, it was the latest Stark Tech; it didn’t smash. And that? that was just annoying. He stood up, and wavered on his feet, tears still pouring down his face. He walked over the glass shards without a thought for his feet and picked up the phone to throw it again. The screen cracked, but it was still on. still intact. Still working. Clint punched the wall, and fell over with the force of it. He lay amongst the glass, in alcohol and his own blood, and sobbed himself to oblivion.

* * *

 

_‘Bring, bring.’_

Clint opened his eyes.

_‘Bring, bring.’_

 He blinked blearily.

_‘Bring, bring.’_

 His head hurt, and his mouth tasted funny.

_‘Bring, bring.’_

His feet hurt too.

_‘Bring, bring.’_

 The sun was too bright.

_‘Bring, bring.’_

His phone was ringing but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

**Author's Note:**

> I left it open ended on purpose. Originally, Coulson was going to be calling and leave a message, cue CLint scrambling for the phone and tearful reunion, but I like it this way better.


End file.
